


Trio

by skargasm



Series: One Duo Trio [3]
Category: Angel: the Series, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But not Spike Derek or Stiles, Character Death alluded to, M/M, Multi, This all got a bit circular
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What led to Derek having to make that decision.....</p><hr/>
            </blockquote>





	Trio

To be honest, he’d thought Angel was trying to get rid of him. Sunnydale was no more; Wolfram and Hart were a thing of the past; hell, having a Slayer Army meant that most things happening were dealt with with a minimum of fuss—what did they need **two** souled vampires for? That and maybe Angel had been telling the truth when he said that Spike needed to get away—he couldn’t be around Willow without the anger threatening to overcome him despite it being over three years since Xander had died.  
   
Intellectually, he knew however much he hated her, she probably hated herself more. Emotionally, he wanted to eviscerate her for what she had caused to happen.  
   
And of course, if he hadn’t taken on the role of liaison, he never would have met Mr Broody Junior, with his dark glares, angry eyebrows and eyes that begged someone to see him, want him, help him carry the horrendous load of baggage life had dropped onto him. Yeah, Derek Hale and his mass of pain made Angel’s broodiness seem like the height of self-pitying petty—he’d actually really enjoyed telling Angel that.  
   
And then there was the boy. He wasn’t really a boy—twenty two, college educated, aware of the supernatural since his teens. Stiles reminded Spike so much of Xander sometimes that it almost hurt. But it was more than a surface resemblance. It was his innate loyalty; the dickhead persona that struggled to hide a passionate, loving heart; the snark and sarcasm that made evenings with him a delightful challenge of banter and laughter. Add all that together with a long, lean body; enticing moles that decorated pale creamy flesh and a pink, pouty mouth that just begged to be filled—hell, it was no wonder that Hale was a slave to the boy. Strange that no one mentioned it—too caught up in the Scott/Allison/Isaac triad maybe; or maybe mourning the loss of fallen comrades – Spike thought he would have liked Erica if he’d been given the chance to meet her.  And there was the bloody terrifying Lydia, who Spike was pretty sure if he searched far enough he would discover was related to Cordelia.  
   
He had almost decided to do nothing about the attraction he felt for both Stiles and Derek. Immortal he might be, but his heart got broken and he wasn’t sure he was ready for another bout as love’s bitch. Then he got injured, and suddenly things changed......

* * *

   
Hot. Delicious. Supernaturally strong. The blood pumped into his mouth and he could almost feel his wounds knitting themselves back together. Predator instinct took over and he pushed an unresisting Derek over onto his back, Spike lying over him and trapping him in place as he gulped down the incredibly powerful werewolf blood. As consciousness returned, he realised that there was something almost resigned about the way Derek lay supine beneath him—like he didn’t expect Spike to stop; like he thought he was going to die and didn’t care. Spike paused in his drinking, slowly lifting his head. He licked his lips, meeting Derek’s kaleidoscope coloured eyes.  
   
“Would you have stopped me?”  
   
“Better me than Stiles.” Derek’s voice was croaky but even as Spike watched, his bite marks began to disappear and seal shut, leaving small traces of blood behind as the only evidence of what had just been happening. Absently, he licked his thumb and rubbed at one of the spots of blood, eyebrow raising in response to the full body shudder that Derek was unable to hide.  
   
“Does he know—that you’d die for him?” The sadness that flitted over Derek’s face was answer enough. “Jesus, don’t tell me you’re on some martyr schtick otherwise I’ll have to ask Angel if he shagged any werewolves in his distant past.”  
   
“What?”  
   
“If you want him, why haven’t you tried to get him?”  
   
“He deserves more. Besides, in case you haven’t heard, love doesn’t always work out so well for me.” Spike wondered if Derek realised he had spread his legs, making a space between them so that he and Spike were nestled intimately together from chest to groin.  
   
“Know that feeling meself but I don’t tend to let that stop me.” Stroking Derek’s neck absentmindedly, Spike thought for a moment. “Is it _just_ him you want?” He was pretty sure he knew the answer but it never hurt to have something confirmed.  
   
He had surprised himself to be honest.  His attraction to Derek was no surprise—hello, 100% his type with the dark hair, tortured eyes, broad and muscled body. But it went beyond just that. He enjoyed talking to the daft sod—learning about growing up as a born werewolf and how different yet the same it was; about his large family and how he still missed them. They shared a (secret) love of literature and could argue metaphorical themes in classics that the rest of the Beacon Hills gang had probably never even read.  Derek had a dry sense of humour with a sharp, sarcastic manner of speech that made Spike laugh out loud, along with a sweetness of soul that made him want to wrap the werewolf up and keep him safe. And a body that Spike wanted to fuck through a wall. What? He never claimed to be perfect.  
   
“No, I—look Spike, it doesn’t really matter—“  
   
“Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter.  If anyone is gonna understand, it’s gonna be me.  Threesomes aren’t that rare you know.”  
   
“I don’t know if—he might—he’s so damned young!”  
   
“You’re really gonna go there? From talking to him, he hasn’t been young since his best mate was bitten. At least you’re not denying that he wants you too.”  Derek gave a cynical snort.  
   
“He’s young—he probably wants anyone who wants him!”  
“You gonna insult him like that, for real? Boy’s been to college—I reckon he’s got his indiscriminate shagging out of his system! He’s old enough to know what he wants.”  
   
“Well you would say that since you want him for yourself!” Spike smirked. He was pretty sure that Derek had forgotten the position they were lying in and now took huge delight in allowing all that delicious werewolf blood coursing through his veins to generate his natural reaction to being on top of a gorgeous man. He pushed down with his hips, pleased when Derek automatically responded in kind.  
   
“So, you’re trying to say he’s old enough for you to drag a bleeding vampire into his room and deal with it if he comes back unexpected-like; old enough to saw your arm off if need be, but not old enough to say who he wants to be with? An’ I make no secret of the fact that I want him—told him so myself. But I’ll tell you what I told him.  I’m not interested in being an extra in some Wuthering Heights type tragedy romance. I want him and I want you. I think he wants us both. The only person who hasn’t made up their mind yet is you.”  
   
Spike leaned down, pressing his face into the warm column of Derek’s neck. It was so damned revealing how easily the werewolf shifted his head to one side, allowing the vampire to nuzzle at the vulnerable expanse with absolutely no sign of fear. He froze for a moment, aware of a noise downstairs.  
   
“Thing is, I’m not the most patient of vampires. Funny, cos you’d think being immortal I’d be happy to wait for things to happen in their own good time.” Sliding his lips down Derek’s throat, he licked delicately at the faint traces of blood that remained before sucking strongly and leaving a livid looking bruise. “But I’m greedy, see. If I have the chance to be happy, I tend to grab at it with both hands. So being here, in the boy’s room with his Dad away and the big bad guy disposed of for the night—I have no problem at all in taking advantage of the situation. An’ I think you want what I want—you want him laid out on his bed, that bed right there that smells so strongly of him and his nightly misbehaving. I want to lay him out and strip him down—taste all of those moles with my tongue before learning what he tastes like in his deepest, darkest places. Sometimes, the want in him is so strong, you can taste it on the air—powerful as hell how much he wants us isn’t it? An’ I think you want him as much as I do but you’re too scared to reach for him. But d’ya know what Derek? I’m not. I’m not too scared.”  
   
“See, I have these dreams where you and the boy are in my bed. Skin against skin, him so pale against you; me so pale against him. Oh you like that do you? Like the thought of having him pressed between us—all that long, lean flesh beneath our hands and our mouths, open for us to do whatever we want, _however_ we want.”

“Spike—”Derek’s voice was low and soft but the grip he had on Spike’s shoulders was almost desperate, his strong thighs raised around Spike’s body to keep him close.

“I know you want it as much as I do—can feel you want it. How long you been holding yourself back? How long have you been wanting to throw him down and rub yourself all over him so he smells like you? I want that too—I want him to smell like you and you to smell like me and me to smell of the both of you. We could have that—we could. All you have to do is reach for what you want.” As he spoke, Spike looked up at the bedroom door, silently gesturing for Stiles to come in. He’d been aware of the moment the boy had arrived at the house, his near silent walk up the stairs. Now he needed to know what Derek wanted to do—what his final decision would be. As Stiles stepped closer, smelling deliciously of lust and want and arousal, Spike rolled himself off of Derek and got lithely to his feet. Staring at Derek the whole time, he took Stiles’ offered hand and pulled the boy close until they were chest to chest, lips a whisper apart.

Derek’s pupils were completely blown as he stared up at them, his mouth open and he wore such an expression of confusion and desire on his face. Knowing he couldn’t make the decision for him, but determined to do everything in his power to make the choice be in his favour, Spike turned and kissed Stiles gently on the mouth. As they kissed, he was aware of Derek getting slowly to his feet and stepping closer. He allowed his eyes to drift closed, sliding his hand beneath the baggy t—shirt that was Stiles was wearing until he could touch warm, soft flesh. God, the boy felt so good in his arms—the muscles shifting under the skin, the arms wrapping around his shoulders, the enthusiastic reaction to his kiss. Was this his chance? Was he finally gonna get what he wanted?

He leaned back slightly, tugging the shirt over Stiles’ head while he watched Derek stagger towards the doorway. Obviously the werewolf needed a little more convincing, a task Spike was more than up to accomplishing. With vampire speed, he lifted Stiles off his feet and threw him onto the bed, grinning cockily at the shocked sound that Stiles uttered before realising just what Spike was up to and reaching for his belt and pants.

“So what’s it gonna be wolf-boy? You ready to man up or do I have to show you what to do?”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Well this should drag things round to Decisions quite nicely - I'm kinda leaving it up to you guys what decision Derek makes - I know what I would do!


End file.
